


Lilac Wine

by hopelesswanderlust



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Radio, Blogger Dipper, Demisexuality, Dorks in Love, M/M, Non-Binary Wirt, Radio Host Wirt, Stalking is not romantic please stop perpetuating this trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:03:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6160501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelesswanderlust/pseuds/hopelesswanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you tell your crush that he's being haunted by a malevolent soul-stealing spirit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patience is the night

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, why did I choose to write things? Shameless self-promotion alert: me and my friend have a college radio slot where we talk about intersectional feminist issues that's way well written than this. Check it out, you can watch That Gay Radio Show in the archives at riotradio.ca and see me rant about racism and queer things. Ask An Ace Anonymous was the LGBTQ+ show I did by myself last year.

The warmth crawled down his throat slowly from the sweet tinged espresso he drank. It had nothing to do with the hot, itchy embarrassment colouring his cheeks upon the feeling of Dipper's eyes on him.

Dipper Pines.

They had that one mutual friend from an elective you took as a bird course but never really talked to, but Wirt felt it was hardly grounds for the staring he was being subjected to. Maybe there was something on his shirt?

He looked up, and choked and sputtered a little at the unbreakable eye contact that he was clearly trying to establish a Guinness world record. If there wasn't anything on his shirt before, there was now.

He focused on the Anthropology notes he had been avoiding but couldn't maintain focus knowing that Pines still had his eyes on him.

After reading the same sentence over and over again with no luck of advancing, he chanced a glance and saw that Dipper had left.

\--------------

"If he has a problem he should just come out and say it. It's annoying when you start to overthink what people think of you because they can't approach you." Sara chimed in from her place at his side and tipped back on Wirt's sheets, trying to grip the empty coke bottle with her toes.

"I think you know better than anyone that not everybody has the confidence level to do that. We talked about this. Anxiety. Junior year."

"Anyone capable of not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at you for 2 hours and letting you know it is clearly not shy. Maybe he wants you to give him Ace Anonymous Advice."

"It's anonymous for a reason, Sara."

"Not so much if everyone knows you're the one writing it. You directly shade your professors and bullies from school. Broadcast is a dying art."

"Oh come on! Everybody hates Funderberker. I'm not even going to touch on what you said about the station."

"That's between you and him. My point is, you should talk to him. He seems like an interesting guy. Apparently he's a blogger for paranormal stuff."

"Ugh! No thank you I had enough of that after what happened in high school."

"I highly doubt he dug far back enough to know that about you. It looks like he is just genuinely interested in you. Give it a chance."

"Are you that worried about me that you're trying to set me up with him?"

Sara dropped the bottle and brought her knees to her chest. "All I'm saying is that you give him a chance."

\-----------------

Wirt had not been the most sociable person before he started off at college, but he was in need of extra-curriculars to curb the insomnia that plagued his waking hours. That was mostly all of them. 

Sara was right in a sense, the shift focused from campus radio to visual broadcasts in recent years, which left very few listeners who just wanted to tune in to independent programming. There were the purists that maintained the archives and played the diverse wealth of music that had been collected over the year since the station's conception in the late 30's. He started off simple, a few slots dedicated to instrumental music, the atmospheric stuff you wouldn't usually play, jazz and blues music, 70's rock. Talking minimally between music breaks to introduce songs and complain briefly about classes.

He loved writing, and he loved music and what he was doing at the station married those two interests together. Speaking into the microphone knowing someone was hearing what he was saying, was somehow different than going outside and talking to people. People chose to listen, and it gave Wirt the time he needed to say whatever he was thinking. He talked about the awe-inspiring things he learned about how history shaped their culture, about the world. He talked about what it was like to feel like there was this sinkhole that felt like it was pulling him down into some unknown place and how it was taking everything he knew with it. He saved these talks for the middle of the night and early morning hours where people would be asleep, or at pub nights and far away from what Wirt was saying. It felt cathartic to share so much of himself, like free therapy with no feedback. He had taken on so many hours of programming that they encouraged him to work part-time. When he wasn't at the mic he was doing tech support and organizing the vast music library. Staying when everyone left to let the records play in the low light of the staff room, always a breath away from sleep in the worn out red velvet armchair. 

The only things he kept to himself were the nightmares.

They were the same ones since highschool, of falling over the wall in the cemetery with his little brother into the bottom of the lake. The hallucinations of The Beast taking away Greg, turning him into an Edelwood tree. 

He felt safer when Sara or Greg slept near, but he couldn't rely on them forever. He went about his days choked up on enough caffeine to stay awake throughout the night, fine tremors in his hand that could be hidden well with enough practice. The best days were when his body passed out of its own accord and he clocked out for 12 hours of blissful, dreamless sleep. 

Wirt went off air and queued up re-runs of his old shows, dragging his feet as he locked the door behind him. He yawned, the motion sending pinpricks into what were probably bloodshot eyes. He really needed to hit the coffeeshop.

He sipped at the doppio shot with a bitter expression, hating the taste but tolerating its effects. Wirt was starting to sway in place and held a firm grip on the table, his eyes fighting to stay open. He had just had a coffee earlier, how was he still this exhausted?

By chance, his eyes wandered around the brightly lit lounge until they feel on the brunette in a baseball cap staring at him intently.

Of course. He thought about what Sara said and threw caution to the wind. 

"Dipper?"

Pines looked taken back as if he did not expect to have any attention paid to him. He wordlessly made his way over to Wirt and sat in the empty chair next to him. Wirt noted the green smock Dipper wore over his flannel that he recognized from the coffee shop he had just left. 

"Hey." Dipper's staring was no less jarring up close then it was from afar. From this distance, it looked like he was looking for something. "Studying?"

Wirt snorted derisively. "Trying to. On break right now?"

"Yeah. Graveyard shift. But it's usually dead this time on the weekends anyways so I gave myself one."

Wirt chuffed a little bit at that. "You're really living on the edge."

"What about you? No plans?"

"No, I thought about catching up but it's not going so well."

Even though Dipper was looking at him, it felt like the barista was talking to somewhere beyond him. "Maybe you should get some sleep. That's what the weekends are for, aren't they?"

_If I could, I would._ Wirt thought sullenly, but at this point he was used to it. "Not according to the majority of campus at that kegger, currently."

Dipper looked too serious in that moment. "Let me take you back to your room."

Wirt chuckled nervously "That's a little forward, don't you think?" Immediately he wished he had slammed his lips shut as he witnessed Dipper grow as red as a tomato. 

"I-I-I didn't mean it that way! I mean I would totally not want to disrespect you like that if you didn't wa-I'm just a little worried because I see you around school and you always look tired and I'm just going to shut up right now."

An honest belly laugh bubbled out of Wirt without his say and tears sprung to his eyes at Dipper's case of word vomit. It was strange to see Pines, usually so resilient during class discussions so flustered. The intensity of Dipper's stare had dropped when the barista looked everywhere but at Wirt, and it relaxed him, having a clearer idea about Dipper's intentions.

"Well," he dragged the word out like a slur, more tired than he realized. "You should probably tend to the que you got going on over there."

Dipper did a double take at the three disgruntled students waiting for coffee and swore, jogging back to his post.

Some time later, he remember a firm grip on his shoulder and warm breathe in his ear repeating something to him, and Wirt agreeing silently, dozing off against the red flannel arm holding him upright.

 

 


	2. Goodbye to our empty ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't you hate when your computer deletes your draft and you have to re-type it all over again???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a completely unrelated note, Daughter is AMAZING live.

 

Sunbeams filtered in through an open window and fell at Wirt's brow, a light breeze drifted into the room and lightly ruffled his hair. The cozy warmth that he had been luxuriating in and out of for the past hour starting to get uncomfortably hot. He took stock of the sweat gathering at his nose and back, and still fully clothed from the day before. He grew cognizant of the three warm points of contact pressed against his shoulder, back, and thighs. The rough scratch of jeans greeted him as he shifted against the warm body pressed against his.

Wait, what?

His eyes snapped open, or as far as they could operating on a few hours of sleep and sand crusting as he flailed around, hunting for his phone. 

Thankfully his phone was on an unfamiliar nightstand and the screen alerted him that it was nine in the morning on a Sunday. 

That settled, he dragged his eyes back to his bedmate.

The mop of brown hair tucked his face out of view, the rest of him curling into a ball, red flannel shirt hanging off him. He looked like he was still asleep, 

The silence save for the even breaths of the sleeping, was soap bubble fragile. Awareness came to Wirt slowly, realizing that Dipper was the one who was in bed with him. Or on second thought, glancing around the unfamiliar room, it was the other way around.

He watched the sunbeams cast a flattering shade onto Dipper's face, his eyelashes looked so lovely that he could barely keep them up when he blinked, the smooth hollows under his eyes tinged a light lilac color from what was probably a lack of well deserved sleep. Wirt could not imagine how he must have looked to Dipper, months of insomnia evident in his face. 

It wasn't until he slipped out of Dipper's room in the early dawn that he realized that he had slept through the night with no nightmares. 

* * *

"Hey,"

Wirt looked up from the tome in his hands to Dipper, back again in his green smock and wearing flannel closer to the color of his uniform. As soon as Wirt made eye contact Dipper dropped his eyes to the ground, shoving his hands in his pocket and shuffling his feet. 

Wirt had just started to open his mouth to reply but the barista cut him off, babble falling out of his mouth faster than his mind could keep up with. 

"You didn't sta-I'm sorry I put you in my room without asking you were tired and I didn't know where your room was and you looked so peaceful and I should stop rambling."

Wirt merely blinked in response. Once was a coincidence, two made Dipper's nervousness more apparent. It wasn't that big a deal to share a bed with him, was it? "Uh, no problem. I should be thanking you for taking care of me while I was out of commission. Hopefully it doesn't happen again." Wirt smiled in what he hoped was a comforting way. Just because he was getting better at not letting his anxiety show on his face during times of distress of social convention, doesn't mean he was an old hand at this. 

If possible it seems like Dipper had become more abashed at Wirt's response. "I wouldn't mind if it happened again. It looks like you need the sleep."

This was going from cute concern to crossing boundaries really quickly.

From the moment they met it seems like Dipper was too overly concerned, like he knew something bad was happening. Wirt's distrust grew and schooled his expression to not look like he was shutting down. He only felt mild disappointment thinking it could have been-

Well, whatever it was, it was never going to be. 

"I don't want to just cut out on you but I have a class I should be walking towards right now," Wirt apologized weakly, hearing how much of a non-sequitor he had made. Not looking back as he abruptly jumped and picked up his bag and left, only a small sound of wordless confusion leaving Dipper's lips.

* * *

 

"You messed up a really good opportunity my friend," Sara said over an overly loud slurp of her milkshake. "it just sounded like an innocent crush to me. Your guard is up too much. What do you think he has personally has against you to want to hurt you?"

"No it's not that it's-"

Wirt made a great sound of frustration, grabbing at his hair. He had started and stopped numerous attempts to tell Sara about The Unknown, and The Beast, but the farther away the years went, the more Wirt believed it was just foolish fever dreams he had made up in his head while hospitalized. He didn't know how to tell her that he could feel when he knew others were being deliberately untruthful because they had an agenda. That he learned it from the web of lies and trickery that The Beast spun. Sara was right in the sense that Dipper was relatively harmless, but human beings could be scarier than imaginary beings. The scariest part was not knowing why Dipper wanted to talk to him in the first place, and why now? 

When he didn't answer her question, the conversation quickly turned to how unseasonably cold it was, for late summer, Sara teasing him about bundling up more than usual, and let the matter temporarily escape him. 

* * *

 

If his cellphone was going off, it meant either Mom or Greg was calling. 

He peeled an eye open from his blurred laptop screen, having been stuck on his current paper for an ungodly amount of time. "Hello?"

"My brother from another mother!"

Ah, so it was Greg this week.

"We have the same mother, unfortunately."

Although Wirt was acting a little half-hearted, he had warmed to his little brother by the time Greg was learning to read. Something his mom had dumped on him on them both, hoping his affinity for the language of the arts would rub off on him. Unfortunately it only resulted in Greg being able to read his poetry and ask uncomfortable questions when they inevitably wandered towards who was the shapeless person he was always writing about and too young to understand the romantic connotations about the objects of his interest of people who weren't like Sara in the slightest. College was good for keeping that kind of distance. 

 "Wirt? Wiiiiiirt? Have you been listening to anything I have been saying?"

"That's nice Greg," he said dazily into the cellphone. 

"So do you have a boyfriend yet?"

Wirt flamed in embarrassment and flailed even though he know Greg couldn't see it. "GREG!"

Immediately his mind took him to earlier last summer when Greg had been poking around looking for some spare sheets of paper to do an assignment and accidentally came upon his poetry. It took copious amounts of bribery of the ice cream bribery to keep his brother from casually mentioning the poem around his parents. Sure, his mom was as open-minded as they came but Jonathan....

Jonathan didn't like him very much. It wasn't because he hadn't tried or had anything against Wirt, but Wirt knows that leaving home for college was one of the best decisions he had made. Away from Wirt and how he didn't fit in their happy little family. He loved Greg immensely, something he couldn't deny after the unknown but it wasn't that easy.

He didn't belong there. 

Wirt and his problems-his anxiety, his insomnia, his conflicted feelings about his body, the way he felt about people, was too hard to explain. There was this divide that he felt separated him from his family, like they were living in different worlds. And Wirt didn't belong in theirs.

Greg, catching on that he wasn't being heard, had just set on blowing raspberries through the receiver until he got his brother's attention. 

 "Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?" Greg finally gave up wasting his minutes and cut to the chase.

"Is it that time of the year already?"

"Mom says she wants you to buy your ticket early something about discounts."

"Tell her I'll think about it."

Time drifted apart from him, and at some point Greg may have hung up but Wirt couldn't tell you if he did. His mind did this nowadays, hours spent with lost time going to lost places. Sometimes he wondered if one day he may never come back.

* * *

 

The next meeting they had was purely chance, with Wirt plowing straight into Dipper's chest.

He had just entered the atrium, minding his own business and had tripped face first over an extension chord. What was surprising was that Dipper was the one to catch him.

It had been a couple weeks since the waking-up-next-to-eachother in bed fiasco and they were close. They were less than a hair's breath away. Wirt could see the flecks of brown in Dipper's eyes, the hint of freckles and a birthmark under his bangs. Felt Dipper's breath wash over his face. 

"Hi," Dipper was all neat lines and warmth.  "Didn't expect to see you here."

He was also really cute.

Oh no.

Dipper pulled him to his feet and let go of his shoulders. He missed the warmth and let the feeling pass as quickly as it came.

"They're shooting something for an ad so you'll have to walk around."

Wirt took notice of the flesh colored earpiece hanging around Dipper's neck and the boom mic in his hand. 

"You're with the production crew?"

Dipper grinned slowly, pride practically shining out of every pore on his face. "Making coffees aren't the only things paying tuition." Wirt followed Dipper's gaze to the group of actors staging a meet and greet with prospective students. "It's apart of my field placement to. It's great to get paid doing something I love?"

It looked like it was fairly obvious what it was, but Wirt asked anyways. "What are you majoring in?"

"I'm in the Film department. I'm going for a Jack-of-all-Trades things but it's hard to specialize."

Wirt wondered why he hadn't seen Dipper around. They may not have been apart of the Visual Radio stations but they usually rubbed elbows with the Broadcast crew. 

Wirt nodded to himself, the both of them sharing the silence of two people who didn't know each other well but wanted to and had nothing to say. 

What was acceptable date etiquette? Why was asking someone out for coffee the go to date invitation? 

"Rough night? You look really tired." Dipper was saying it jokingly but there an edge of worry in his voice.

"Something like that," Wirt said quietly, meaning it to be casual instead of just saying 'Yeah, just night terrors.'

He was broken out of his reverie by the gentle hand on his shoulder shaking him lightly. "Wirt? They're on break, you can walk now." 

"Oh! Thanks for reminding me I gotta-"

Once again, he tripped over the extension chord with no Dipper to save him this time. 

When he got up, he saw a flash of laughter in Dipper's eyes that he was clearly trying to stifle, but it bled into his tone. "Need any help?"

Wirt had just opened his mouth but Dipper grasped his hand and pulled him up, his stare intent in an easy to miss way if he were anybody else. 

"You have something-" his thumb brushed the nape of neck, the touch intimate, too slow to be casual.

He felt the smallest of tremors move through him, a deep flush working up his neck.

As if noticing he had overstepped bounds Dipper's eyes widened and he stepped out of Wirt's bubble and muttered, "it was just a little dirt I'll-" he cleared his throat. "Didn't you have somewhere you needed to be?"

"Yeah I'll just be," he backed away, even though he didn't really want to. "on my way."

Even with his back turned he could feel Dipper's stare burning between his shoulder blades.

* * *

"I'm Wirt, and you're listening to 91.1 FM. You can connect with us on Facebook and Twitter live if you have any requests. I hope you'll stay with us after the break." 

He faded in the next song [(x)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63xjiLDRWBI) and laid back with a sigh. Wirt's eyes felt rubbed raw and bloodshot from staring at the bright computer screen in the dim lit room for the past two hours. His lids felt abnormally heavy in a way that had been building up with the a week's worth of sleep deprivation. If he wasn't careful he was going to fall asleep at the sound of the soft thrumming notes of electric guitar in the song he had just cued up. 

His eyes had started drifting shut at the singer's soft lilting voice and jerked up when the notification ringtone sounded in the muted studio. 

It was a question on their Twitter page asking why Wirt liked doing the night shows.

There were a lot of reasons. The studio was quiet and empty at night, it gave Wirt full freedom to air the music he liked, ramble without end to people who stayed up to listen. Night listeners had a different energy than in the day, a still silence that made it easier to share times that couldn't be said in the morning hours. Night shows were like Wirt's Diary come to life, sharing with hundreds of strangers his honest thoughts, the words on his lips came without censorship and careful deliberation. It was like opening up to the Void, because the Void couldn't answer back. It was true they had social media pages to connect with people-but rarely people did.

It was why this question, sent at 1:39 AM, was especially strange. 

Plus, it was easier to answer that he always looked tired because he worked late nights at the station.

With the last song airing [(x)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHQqqM5sr7g) he cued up the rest of the night's programming.

The night ended like all shifts did, Wirt dragging his feet the short distance back to his building, but something had the back of his neck prickling like someone was behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a guy trailing behind him a good distance away, his hood pulled up over a baseball cap with a faded pine tree emblazoned on the front.

Jesus Christ it was like an episode of Dateline in the making.

Wirt made a sudden turn into a narrow backstreet to see is the stranger was still following him, if maybe his insomnia was getting the better of him and making him into a paranoid freak over what was probably nothing-and the guy was still following him, although not as conspicuous as before. He swore to himself silently, cursing his luck at what was probably going to be a mugging-in-the-making. All he had on him was a notebook, his cellphone, and his keys.

When the totally shady guy came closer, reaching out (really what kind of mugger was this guy? Didn't he know that it should be mugger's etiquette not to be so obvious?) years of self-defence training sprung him to action, grabbing the stranger's elbow and twisting it behind his back in quick succession. This action knocked off the stranger's hat off their head, a moan of pain falling from his lips. 

 _"Don't think I won't call the cops!"_ Wirt hissed unnecessarily, shaking with adrenaline as he forced the man down to the ground and pinned his back with a knee.

It took Wirt a second to notice that the trembling shape of a man possessed a familiar head of brown curls.

The fight died down as Wirt loosened his grip in shock. "Dipper?"

 

 


	3. If I could paint the sky (Would all the stars be shining bloody red?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens

They walked over to the 24-hour Diner in silence.

Well, by silence he meant it was Wirt, walking ahead of Dipper not saying a word with a stony temperament and not allowing Dipper's very not-smooth attempts at conversation.

"So, uh, good weather huh?"

Wirt sped up, not looking back to see if Dipper could catch up with him. He was lucky Wirt hadn't called campus security or issued a restraining order yet. The only thing besides his exhaustion keeping him from hitting Dipper was that he hadn't been honestly intending to rob Wirt. Although, stalking someone late at night while dressed like Dipper did wasn't endearing himself any further. 

He had contemplated a date with this guy! Dates, in fact!

Wirt was fuming more at himself for getting his hopes up over the idea that someone...genuinely liked him like that. Or was interested, at least. 

"Seriously Wirt, I can explain!"

Wirt rounded up on Dipper, getting so up in his face his nose was practically squashed against the bill of Dipper's hat. "Whatever you say have to say, remember that you're still in the doghouse." Wirt un-tensed from what was probably the world's most petulant expression and looked down, sleep wearing down on him faster than he thought it would. "Buy me a coffee, you can explain there."

Wirt had entertained the idea of going to his apartment to get some rest, night terrors be damned, but all desire to stay wrapped in bed had fled as soon as he twisted Dipper's arm behind his back.

Wirt eyed Dipper as conspicuously as he could, noticing that he was favouring his left side a little bit, cradling his elbow towards his body in a way that would not have been obvious if you weren't experienced with sustaining a sprain. Dipper looked the slightest bit feverish, sweat beading on his forehead and collecting at the brim of his sweat, the material darker there than the rest of the hat. Wirt faltered in his steps, genuinely worried that if he didn't get Dipper medical attention as soon as possible then he was going to end up getting hospitalized. 

Dipper walked past him though, pushing past the doors, and before he knew it they were bathed in the near blinding fluorescent lights of Greasy's Diner.

They seated themselves in the cracked red leather seats, their booth had light scratches and a few ash stains, but Wirt was well acquainted with Greasy's, the diner living up to its name. 

Like clockwork, Lazy Susan was there pouring Wirt coffee with a tired smile. Dipper didn't look the slightest bit surprised at the brusqueness of the interaction, Greasy's really was a place that knew the locals.

"Talk." Wirt said without pre-amble, closing his eyes as he felt himself growing more alert from the brew.

Dipper squirmed, more out of discomfort than out of anxiety, trying to find out where to start. "I wasn't trying to rob you, that's still true. But yeah, I was following you."

Wirt rested his head on the wall, eyes closed to keep him from resisting Dipper's apologetic expression and letting the whole thing go. "Why."

Dipper didn't seem to know how to answer, deliberately staying quiet as he pondered what to say next. 

"Because I'm worried about you."

It wasn't the first time that Dipper had said it, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in there that Wirt couldn't ignore.

"What are you worried about? The only thing that proved to be a danger to me today, was you."

Dipper opened his mouth to interject but Wirt kept on going. "And don't say that you didn't mean to scare me, because here's the thing-you did. And yes Dipper, I like you, maybe I even think we're friends, but you know me just as much as anybody does. And that's not a lot. So what am I supposed to think when you follow me around late at night without a good reason? Why am I supposed to believe that you're worried about me, and want to protect me when you could do it in a way that I consent to. There's a time and a place to have a conversation with me over what you're worried about, but frankly, it's none of your business. I get that you may have good intentions, but I'm not flattered by it." Wirt was almost out of breath by the time he stopped, and he bit his lips to keep him from saying more. In truth, he was a little flattered that Dipper cared about him, but the larger, more logical part told him that this wasn't normal or acceptable behaviour.

Dipper looked down, shoulders still tensed like he was about to flee, but for some reason, he stayed where he was sitting. Shame burned in his downcast eyes but he didn't fight back with Wirt, absorbing everything he had said with great care.

When Dipper looked up, it was with a chagrined expression. "I am sorry that I made you feel like I had the intention of hurting you. That wasn't fair to you and I'm not going to make excuses. I guess I just," Dipper's lashes lowered in contemplation and Wirt felt like screaming. It wasn't fair that Dipper looked so pretty and Wirt was still supposed to be mad at him. "wanted to watch over you without you knowing. Like I'm your hero, but that's weird and manipulative." Dipper's nose wrinkled in horror at his sudden realization. "And narcissistic too, now that I think about it."

The response startled a laugh out of Wirt, and it surprised him as much as it surprised Dipper, his mouth hanging open, stunned.

"Only you, " Wirt stifled a snicker. "Would find being accused of being narcissistic worse than being confronted over stalking."

"I'm taking that as forgiveness?" It was hard to ignore the note of honest hope in Dipper's tone.

"Not a chance," Wirt said cheerfully, too tired to care that his grin was too wide and maybe a little too reminiscent of a shark. "Just don't do it again, alright?"

Dipper ducked his head and to hide his smile but he didn't do a good job of it. It didn't occur to Wirt until much, much later that Dipper never had any intention of following through, and never promised to stop. 

* * *

 

"Only next of kin, please." The nurse said patiently, sitting a sweating, cursing Dipper down into a chair in the waiting room. 

"I'm the only one available at the moment, can I still stay?"

The nurse gave him an approximation of a blank look, or at least the professional equivalent of one and handed him a clipboard. "Well, if you can fill out any of his health history and are his emergency contact, then go right ahead."

Wirt sighed and settled him, feeling tremendously guilty. "Mr. Pines, was it? We're going have to call your sister."

Dipper stopped his silent groans of pain to snap his head up with a panicked look in his eyes. "No! Please don't call her! She's never going to let me live this down!"

The nurse looked at him pityingly and tried to placate him. "I'm sorry to have to put you in this position Mr. Pines."

Another nurse came and the both of them left without looking back, ignoring his plight for mercy.

"I'm sure she won't be too mad."

"I'm not worried that she's going to be mad," Dipper said, voice approaching strained. "She's never going to let me forget it."

"Well," Wirt said uncomfortably, "I can't fill this out. And even if I can't, she deserves to know."

Wirt had joined the group of people betraying him that night, Dipper thought, finally realizing how doomed he really was.

* * *

 

The first time Wirt met Mabel Pines, true to Dipper's prediction, Mabel was laughing uncontrollably in the ER. 

"Oh Wirt, you really got him good didn't you!" Mabel had tears in her eyes and every time she tried to stop laughing, she would start snorting and as if egging her on, the laughter kept coming.

Wirt darted his head around hoping nobody had noticed the twin's outburst. He didn't want to spend the rest of the night in their local jail cell if possible.

Mabel, beyond how loud and warm she was acting, was still in shooting star printed pajama pants and could barely keep her eyes open. Wirt couldn't blame her, by the time they had got to the hospital it was well past three in the morning. Upon possibly breaking Dipper's arm, he was sorry for having to wake her up in the middle of the night over his aggression (as justified as it was at the time). She didn't seem mad, but then again he had only seen her after taking a bathroom break and coming back to see an almost identical version of Dipper deep in hysterics. 

"The name's Mabel!" She hooked her arms around his neck and winked terribly. "But you can call me the girl of your dreams!"

To say it was the most memorable introduction he had ever gotten would be saying the least. 

They probably wouldn't have ended up here, if it weren't for Dipper making it twelve steps from Greasy's before throwing up and almost collapsing in his own vomit. They had talked for a bit longer after the confrontation, and Wirt had almost forgotten that he had hurt Dipper in the first place. Although, Dipper guarding his hand and the minute hitch in his breath should have been obvious indications enough that there was something afoot. 

"He told me what happened earlier while you were out, and I don't blame you. For the life of me, I don't know why he was following you around in the first place." she said it understandingly enough, but something about it felt like a lie when she said it, but he shook that impulse off, believing that he had enough paranoia to last him one night. She clapped him on the shoulder, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Okay? I'll take some sense into him. This idiot's got to realize that he can't go 'saving' everybody. I hope you can forgive him for this."

Wirt didn't say anything, but a part of him already had. And upon hearing Dipper's shout ring down the halls of the ward, the rest of him had, wincing in sympathy as the unmistakable sound of bone snapped into place.

* * *

 

Wirt hadn't been thinking about what the effects that breaking Dipper's arm had, until he walked through the foyer that he had seen Dipper the other day, talking to one of the actors with his arm in a sling. 

He waited until Dipper was done talking with his supervisor to follow him and put a hand on his good shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry that you're going to have to miss work because of me."

"And class, too." Dipper added, but he didn't look angry, there was just the plain set of pain etched into the corner of his mouth that he couldn't hide.

"Oh my god! I didn't even think about that either I'm-"

"Wirt," Dipper said tiredly "you don't have to worry about it. Really. I already got Mabel to email my professors for me and I have three weeks off work. I mean yeah, it'll affect me getting assignments done-" and the pain on his face was probably more from being unable to participate in class than the dislocated elbow. "but that's what notetakers for. I'll live. I just hope I didn't mess things up with you."

"Look, you made a mistake that's true, but you didn't mess up. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

The etched look of pain was replaced by a slow, wide grin. "I can think of a few ways."

* * *

 

 

"Is this really necessary?"

"Absolutely!" Dipper chirped back loudly, full of cheer from where he was sitting. 

Wirt sighed but held up the boom mic, and heeded all of Dipper's instructions. 

The timer started, and they were live within the minute. 

"Hey guys, sorry about the recent hiatus we've been on but as you can see," Dipper gestured to the sling. "It's been kind of hard to get back into the grove of things..."

It had surprised Wirt to find out that Dipper was a vlogger, and with more surprise to find out that his channel was actually  _popular,_ if corporate sponsorships indicated that kind of thing.

The channel really hit lift-off around the time Dipper had turned thirteen, with his paranormal findings in a place in Oregon called Gravity Falls, that was chalk full of weirdness. Many viewers doubted the validity of the supernatural, but Wirt, even with a few encounters with The Unknown under his belt, held a healthy amount of disbelief. Still, it was fun, and it was Dipper, and he got to stay awake. 

He avoided looking at his reflection when he could, remembering how he had taken long in the bathroom to calm his beating heart, catching sight of a rail thin man with almost sunken in cheeks. The hollows lining his eyelids bled a deep purple and his eyes were bright, bulging. Wirt could hardly recognize the person in the mirror, but instead of confronting him, he avoided the stranger. No wonder Dipper didn't like him. He looked like a dead man on his feet. Dipper would have a reason to be worried, this person looked like he could fall at any moment and may not be able to get back up.

During downtime, Wirt drank some more.

* * *

It's not like Wirt had anything against therapy. The price was a considerable factor, but most colleges could provide subsidized drug and therapy plans for free. It occurred to him that maybe normal people slept for more than two hours a day, and recovered from their childhood trauma eventually. That they eventually learned how to cope, even if the trauma never really left. Those were all good reasons but what scared him the most was that he was making it all up.

At least when he was lost to the machinations of his own mind, he could admit he was being irrational and melodramatic. When he woke up from nightmares that were more than just nightmares, drenched in sweat-he assured himself it was natural. Wirt felt like he had a firm grasp on what his problems were. A stranger didn't need to pick out and tell Wirt how he was different, because Wirt could already see the ways in which he was.

Sara, abnormally serious as per her usual demeanour, stopped him from leaving for classes that day. Her eyes were set in fierce determination like she had already set her mind on something and was going to follow up through with it unless it killed her.

"I'm putting my foot down. _You_ -" She jabbed her finger into his chest for every word that came out of here mouth next."are going to get some help."

His initial reaction was indignation, it was easy for him to protest and tell her that she didn't know him as well as she thought, but it would have been cruel and untrue. Sara had been there to wipe the puke from his chin and let him cry into her chest when he had told her about The Beast, so drunk that he thought that it had appeared in the corner of her living room to come and take him away. For all that they hung out, Wirt had never known if they could ever really be as close as he wanted, knowing how he used to love her. In high school,  he hadn't really come to love Sara for who she really was.  He had built some idealistic image of her to pine over, that was never really real. It wasn't until they really knew each other that he could fully love her in a way that was real and tangible.

Yet, it didn't feel like it was supposed to be enough.

  
Knowing how far they came,  Wirt couldn't find it in him to be upset at her concern. He was so tired. He didn't want to keep saying he was fine when he wasn't. So instead of getting mad, his voice went almost quiet

"Okay."

He gave in.

She hugged him for dear life, head pushed into his chest, the feeling of tears bleeding into his sweater. He wrapped his arms around her, so impossibly tiny for someone who liked throwing people around in the ring, and reminded by how easy it was to fall in love with her again.

* * *

 

"I understand if you don't know what to say or need some time. If it's easier, please fill out these forms."

The counsellors office was a far cry from the room he was originally picturing. There were butter smooth black sofa seats and a ceiling that was pretty high for how small the room was. Wirt immediately sank deeper into the cushions, his lids growing heavy at the comfortable warmth in the room that was  practically dragging him by his ankles to sleep.

The clipboard placed on his lap woke him up enough to get his eyes focused enough to take into account the person sitting in front of him. The counsellor wore a smile that looked to be far from faked and when she walked had to hobble from side to side, favouring one leg. She had trustworthy deep blue eyes that looked like they were reaching into his chest for his secrets.

"What can I do for you, Wirt?"

Wirt shifted uncomfortably and squirmed in his seat. How did people usually begin?

"Take your time. We can sit for however long you are comfortable."

"What if I just sit here for hours and not say anything?"

Her smile widened. "No complaints for me there. I just want you to know that with time that the both of us have here today, is for you. I don't know if you've ever had counselling before, but it's not meant to diagnose you and look for your 'problems' because that's not what we do here. If you feel like it's necessary, we can set up an appointment with the psychiatrist for a follow up. This is just about what you feel, and I hope I can help you make sense of that."

Wirt chewed on the end of his lip in deep thought. It was so easy before, why couldn't he just say it now?

He took a fee breath to himself and channeled his broadcast persona.

"How does that sound?"

He talks.

* * *

 

The psychiatrist's office is more spacious than the counsellor, the same butter soft couch cushions but none of the warmth. 

Wirt swore he could see his breath fog in the room but chalked it up to an overactive imagination. He rubbed his hands up and down his sweater sleeves, teeth chattering the slightest bit as he waited to see the doctor. 

 Where the counsellor's office had been warm and cozy, this space was open and clinical. Wirt had been studying a pillar when he felt a soft, almost furred carress. 

 

He jumped in his seat, checking to see if a bug or some kind of material had brushed him but he couldn't locate the source of the strange sensation.  _I'm too tired to be thinking about this._

As quick as the thought game, fatigue weighed heavy in his limbs and Wirt slumped forward into the arms of darkness, whispering praise into his skin. In the distance, as if he were underwater, the cadence of worried shouts revered in the office, doors slamming, fingers tipping his face up, u seeing eyes tunneling in and out of conciousness. The physician's face melted like chocolate, Wirt observed from a far place in his mind, icy cold claws embedded in his chest. 

Wirt slept.

* * *

 

 


	4. higher and higher still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're uncomfortable with mentions of sexual content, then skip ahead!

A woman stood, nine feet up, a dark head lowered in conxentration, holding garden clippers. It was mom on the ladder in their garden back home, everything in shades of grey and white. The tall lilac bushes she tended to were the only things in color, their slight hue almost technicolor in comparison to their surroundings. Wirt spoke to her, but no sound came out. His brows furrowed and he tried again, feeling his vocal chords expand only to notice that the dull ringing in his ears was the reason for the silence. Wirt grew panicked, seeing the thin branches start to snake around her ankles. Wirt ran forward, tearing the branches away, but his mom carried on trimming as if nothing were happening at all, trimming the same branch, but the blossoms weren't falling off. As soon as Wirt's grip ripped the branches away, they came back thicker, stronger, cutting his hands steadily as it grew to come back as thick as his wrist, but they weren't wrapping around her anymore. They were wrapping around him, and it wasn't a lilac bush it was-

An Edelwood.

The branches wound around his wrist and up his arm and he tripped over the trunk that had suddenly sprung up behind him, falling back into the bit of darkness. 

* * *

 

Wirt woke with a gasp, heart beating against his ribcage like a jackhammer as he pushed up, dimly hearing the sound of a monitor announce a series of high pitched beeping and hands around his shoulders, lightly pushing him back down, but instinct he fought back against the arms holding him down, lashing at them with blunt fingernails that would curl into claws and scratch at his attackers.

The arms let go of him and he fell back, bouncing in place. 

He blinked the crust from his eyes, a little calmer.

With the adrenaline spike gone, he noticed that a harried looking woman in dark blue scrubs was watching him silently for any further signs of aggression before she drew away, smiling as if he hadn't just been prepared to scratch her face off.

"Good to see you awake Mr. Palmer. Can you tell me your date of birth?"

The question threw him for a loop. "Um, July 7th?" 

She nodded to herself, excusing the way he made it look like a question at the end of it.

"Do you know how you got here?" She asked softly, matching his hushed tone seamlessly. 

He thought about it, but all he could remember was seeing Dipper last and then-

Dipper! Had he taken Wirt here? He shook his head, the gears in his mind turning. "What happened?"

"You were admitted for hyperglycemia and fainting. Your friend here brought you to us. You can go home soon, we'll just need to keep you overnight to stabilize your blood sugar a bit. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Wirt swallowed, and just shook his head again. "Um, is my friend here by any chance?"

A throat cleared from the corner of the room and Wirt turned so quickly he was going to get whiplash, to see an awkwardly posed Dipper sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, his sling resting on his upraised knee.

He had been here this whole time, witnessed Wirt nearly attack the nurse, and had said nothing. Wirt sat, thoughts going offline at the minor shock of it all.

"I'll just leave the call bell here. If you need anything, just ring it and another nurse or I will come back running, alright?"

She placed it his in his fist looking oblivious to the atmosphere of awkwardness in the room. If she did, it didn't show in her expression as she waited for another one of Wirt's nods before she left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

The silence in the room stretched as the door clicked shut. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic beeping from the IV. Wirt averted his eyes, keeping them on the plaid patterned blanket haphazardly thrown over him.

Dipper's voice broke the silence, just when it was getting unbearable. "It's a little ironic, that Mabel was the one to tell me." Wirt looked up at that, a smile-come-grimace marring Dipper's expression. "You wouldn't expect it, but she was there for counselling. She was in the waiting room when she saw them rush you out. She volunteered to get on the ambulance with you when they couldn't wake you up. Your blood pressure was so low that they thought you were going to die-"

To Wirt's astonishment, Dipper's words grew shaky and he pushed his face into the hand that wasn't in the sling, his face turned away, what little he could see of it a mottled red. 

Wirt gasped, blood rushing to his head as he threw the blanket off and reached for Dipper, held back by the upraised siderails on either side of him. Dipper let out a muffled sob, and Wirt, more calmly, lowered the rails, standing on trembling feet. 

The IV tugged sharply at his arm and he frowned, removing the needle painstakingly slow, and hobbled over to Dipper.

As if far away, locked under some partition in his head, instinct took over and he wrapped his arms around Dipper's head, pulling his teary face towards his chest. 

"I hate it when people cry for me, you know," Wirt smoothed a hand through Dipper's curls, the feeling smooth under his searching fingers. He massaged little circles into his scalp, feeling the wetness grow around his collar. "I never know what to do."

Dipper pushed away from his chest, expression wrecked, with the hint of a shaky smile. "It looks like you're doing a good job right now."

Wirt smiled back down at Dipper, feeling his heart constrict at the sight of open despair in Dipper's expression. "I'm sorry."

Dipper hurriedly rubbed his eyes dry and took a deep breath. "Only you would apologize for passing out."

Wirt reached out for comfort this time and buried his face in Dipper's curls. Every breath felt like a bruise, something like love pushing against his lungs. 

 

* * *

 

Wirt's mouth hung open in a silent scream as he felt Dipper's thumbs dig into his bare skin. A shudder went through him, almost absurdly itching warmth left in the places where Dipper's fingers had left, long gone in their search for more sensitive meat to prod. He felt himself tensing further, to Dipper's aggravation. "You really are tense."

Wirt only hoped that Dipper would attribute the flush deepening his skin from the imprint of his fingers and not from Dipper himself. Wirt nearly yelped as he felt Dipper's knees on either side of his hips, thighs straddling his lower back, the motion bringing their bodies flush. He could feel the scrape of Dipper's jeans on his bare skin and it felt like sandpaper to his over-sensitized skin. When Dipper grunted and moved him further up the twin bed, the action brought other parts of his anatomy to his attention. His eyes, that had been half-open, slowly drifting as the tension was being unwound by Dipper snapped open, casting a horrified look at the half-hard tent in his pants.  _Oh my god!_ his mind screamed on his behalf, fast approaching panic mode. The last time he had an erection that wasn't quickly wilted in the morning was when they started popping up out of nowhere when he was 12. How was this happening? Yeah, Dipper was very attractive and kind and tentative but-

Wirt had never really looked at people like that. It had been one of the things that Wirt felt had set him apart from his peers, reminding him how he was just that much different than everybody else. 

"Maybe you should see a real massage therapist." Wirt was snapped from his crisis when Dipper spoke tiredly from above Wirt, his voice closer, and more fatigued then Wirt had thought. Dipper's palms were still splayed flat on his back, but they felt clammy and warm. Wirt chanced a glance at Dipper from the side and bit his lip and nearly passed out from how good he looked. Dipper's skin was flushed and sweat was beading on his hairline and dripping slightly from his face. Even his lips had darkened, parted and out of breath. When Dipper threw off his cap to push his hair back to dry off the sweat, it revealed a constellation of the Big Dipper faintly imprinted on his forehead. 

 _I'm going to die like this, aren't I?_ Wirt thought, watching Dipper unbutton three buttons, presumably to give his skin room to breath. Even his chest hair was nice to look at. 

 _How am I going to get myself out of this?_ Wirt's erection, which had started as half-hearted, was thickening, it felt like all the blood in his body, all the blood in his _brain_  was concentrating between his thighs. 

When Dipper got off, Wirt didn't know if he was supposed to be relieved or disappointed. "Wirt? Falling asleep on me already?" Dipper joked, tapping his bare shoulder.

The easiest solution was to just run with what Dipper had said, it was an out. But stupidly, "Getting there," Wirt cleared his throat, voice huskier than he had ever heard it. "and no big, you did a good job as far as I can tell." he didn't.

Wirt's face was turned away from Dipper but he knew there was a smile in his voice. "Ha, I hope so. My grunkle is in his 70s but it's like tradition to get their grandkids to step on their backs and mooch off free massages." Dipper did some weird gesture that Dipper couldn't really see. "I've got the magic fingers."

Wirt turned his face to the side, his fringe plastered with sweat. "I think maybe he was just exploiting you for your labour." Ok, good, conversation was making it go down. Fantastic. Wirt pulled himself up, resting his weight on his elbows. He looked back at Dipper, who had taken that moment to burst into laughter, tears springing to the corner of his eyes. "Your grunkle?"

"You're probably right, sounds like something Stan would do." Dipper chortled, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Not our grandfather, he died a few years ago. He's more like a really old uncle. You know, a 'grunkle.' "

Wirt smiled, turning over to face Dipper completely, leaning against the wall. "Can't say my family was quite so big. Only had the grandmother on my mom's side but we were never close."

"There's more: my grunkle has a twin too." Dipper said in a conspirational tone, nudging Wirt, handing him his sweater back.

"No way! Most run in the family." He couldn't see Dipper, tugging the sweater back over his head, but he didn't immediately reply, as if stuck on something he was thinking about. 

When Wirt pushed his head through the neck hole, Dipper looked fidgety. "Uh, I don't want to keep you. I hope the massage was- _satisfactory?_ " his voice squeaked on the last part like it was embarrassing, which Wirt didn't blame him for, it was probably weird for them both. 

"Um yeah I feel"  _it was a little more than just satisfactory._ "better, I think."

Dipper's eyes, which had been trying to stay conspicuously averted, snapped back to his like Wirt deserved his undivided attention in that moment. "Great!" He said hurriedly, a little too enthusiastically. Wirt swore he saw a wince pass through Dipper's expression but it was too quick to tell. "I should really get back to doing some work but I'll see you around!"

Dipper didn't give him a chance to leave because he had jumped up and ran out of the room like it were on fire. Hadn't Dipper said he was given exemption from his work and classes from his healing arm?

Immediate explanations like how Dipper had realized that Wirt was an anxious mess came to mind. It had come at just the right time too, when his self-loathing was forgotten in the light of Dipper's friendship, doubting himself less, thinking that maybe somebody really liked him.

_But he said he would see you around, didn't he?_

People said that kind of thing offhand all the time, it didn't mean that they really meant it. It was an empty platitude people offered all the time. Tears burned behind the backs of his eyes but he blinked them away, forcing himself to snap out of it. Remember what his counsellor said-how it feels like it's hard to believe that friends can like us because we dislike so much of ourselves. 

Had Dipper ever made him feel like he was anything less than genuine? Ever dismissed Wirt when he started talking animatedly about architecture? It was something Greg usually had a lot of booing for. 

The pressure of over thinking just built up in a burst of irritation and he grabbed the nearest to him and yelled into it. Why was he acting so stupid about this? If anything, the weird back rub moment was probably the issue here. _I'm not touching that one with a twelve foot stick_ , he thought, rubbing at his eyes furiously. He needed a shower, this was getting to be too much.

Wirt never understood the reason for the installed full body mirror, and the additional mirrors on the outside of the drawers, but he wrote it off to a quirky renovation the previous tenants had liked. He was thankful for it then, lazily staring into the vanity for a few seconds before recognition hit.

His skin was splotches red all over but that could be written off right away by his growinf nervousness from before. His hair looked more frazzled than its trademark messiness. Those alone werent bad on their own, but all his attention was drawn to his pants, the groin darkened with a near visible wet spot that looked unmistakable with the background of his stonewashed jeans.

He remembered the stiffness in his pants from earlier to draw them back and-oh god, the pre-cum had soaked through his boxers completely,  and when he peeled it back it felt like he was removing a crusty, second skin. He had to have been more aroused thank he thought for it had to have gotten that bad which means-

Dipper connected two and two and had left, probably more than a little freaked out that his friendly offer was met with unexpected results. 

Wirt groaned to himself, and peeled his clothes away from him, not noticing the indigo hue of faint, finger shaped bruises that wrapped around the base of his throat, far, far away from where Dipper's hands had ventured. 

 

 


	5. treat me like fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to abandon because of how bad the spelling errors are but like...nah. If you're uncomfortable or triggered with mentions of gender dysphoria than I would skip ahead after the cut!

Wirt did his utmost best to wipe the whole thing from his mind. He was determined to pretend that the pretty weird gay massage thing didn't happen, and that he didn't possibly ruin his friendship with Dipper over it. 

Sara was absolutely no help. She was saying crazy things like, 'go talk to him' and 'work things out.' Which was clearly bonkers. 

After those scary dream sequences that had start popping up more frequently after he had started visiting the counsellor's office, Wirt firmly decided that confronting his fears and trauma was also an absolutely terrible idea and they should remain buried forever. The yellow little pills by his bedside remained where they were, bottle half empty where some had spilled onto the floor as they had been for two weeks now. The floor was a whole other story, old clothes and dust mites collecting on the floorboards. Wirt called for his vacation days for the first time in months, and laid in bed, wondering when it stop hurting to breathe again. 

Sara had been mad at first, and yelled at him to get up, and get back to classes. Get back to work at least, go talk to Dipper. But as the days wore on, concern bled into her expression and with a soothing hand at his temples, so gentle it nearly brought tears to his eyes, she gave him space. 

No calls, texts, emails to get him to check his phone. Which had died after four days anyways. He felt too sore to move, skin feeling paper thin and bruised, and when he had gone into the bathroom last without his shirt on, he noticed how thin he had gotten, skin sallow looking and purpled in numerous areas. Weight he couldn't have afforded to have been losing making his frame more gaunt and scary looking from just a simple glance in the full body mirror. He blacked it out, only going in when he had the energy to brush his teeth and go to the bathroom. His mom had dropped off a whole fridge full of snacks when he moved in to his apartment, but he had never been more thankful as he snacked on nutella and crackers in bed, silent tears dripping onto his bed. Wirt could have acknowledged that he hit rock bottom when he woke up and choked on the crumbs the next day that had collected on his pillowcase and refused to clean up after himself. And the impulse purchases of liquid lipsticks delivered straight to his door that he didn't have the courage to wear in public. They were cracked open in his sink, deep reds and plums that looked garish against his sad looking skin and stubble left over from two days when he had been too tired to shave. He had tried the same thing with his nail polish, but his hands kept shaking, and the coats looked gross and lumpy against his lightly hairy toes. He didn't look good in any of it, so why did he even bother? He was just trying to dress up a sad sack of a human being. The tears that Wirt had been keeping at bay leaked out of his eyes without his consent, and he let himself fully cry, tears blurring his vision as the tingling feeling of acetate and its fumes remove the polish from his skin. He laid down, practicing his breathing exercises, and surrendered himself to sleep once more. 

* * *

 

"Good morning, sunshine!"

The blinds were pulled back without warning, bathing the whole room in the harsh light of the sun. Wirt squawked and covered his face, unable to take the sensation of the warm rays on his face, a headache blooming in his temples from not being adjusted to the light properly. 

"Get up sleepyhead! I've got a full day planned ahead of us! Clean up this room, get smoothies, go shopping-"

Hands yanked the blanket down from Wirt's face that he had been using to cover his face from the onslaught. From squinted eyes Wirt saw Dipper's sister in what Dipper would have called, 'Full Mabel Regalia' in one of her custom knit sweaters which looked to be a turquoise one with a gaudy pink glittery iguana printed on the front, glitter coated barette, and leggings. Unlike Wirt had last seen her, her hair was now in a short bob and she wore bright red glasses with big frames. "...we will make a day of it! But first things first, can I use your washroom?"

Wirt yawned, not awake enough to process the whirlwind that was Mabel. 

She skipped away (actually skipped) from him and left Wirt to his devices, which was precisely him laying on the floor. Where he had probably fallen when Mabel had startled him awake by shunting open the curtains. 

After clearing his cruddy eyes Wirt shrunk at the mounds of waste that Dipper's sister would have seen upon entering his apartment which just opened up even more questions. Was he really so careless to leave the door unlocked? 

The mess was bad, to put it lightly. There was the spilled pills and smelly clothes, his garbage that was overflowing with trash. A sink full of unwashed dishes, a thin layer of dust on the hardwood floors, piles of pieces of paper littering the floor in crumpled up balls from when Wirt had tried to write down everything he was failing ad continuously failed. 

To put it lightly, his room looked like a disaster site.

The embarrassment fuelled him to go remove the smelly bags of overflowing trash before Mabel got back, and started vigorously scrubbing at the dishes. Where had the time gone? When had it gotten this bad? He though to himself, after a particularly stubborn stain refused to dissolve into the soap suds. The more dishes that started filling the racks, the more pleasant the scent of the kitchen became, bubbles of citrus taking away the griminess of the kitchen. 

Next was the floor. He could shove all the clothes into the hamper and stuff it into the back of his closet. The broom and dustpan was next, picking up all the detritus from the depressed period that made up Wirt's life these past few weeks. 

It wasn't until he felt the sweat dot this brow, and the apartment looked less worse for wear, that it occured to him that Mabel was taking awfully long. 

"Mabel?" he called out, not really expecting much of a response, trying to remember if he left the bathroom just as disgusting as the rest of the place.

The door was still ajar, Mabel standing in the doorway staring at something with a furrowed brow of concentration and deep confusion. "What's wrong-"

Wirt's eyes immediately zoomed in on the liquid lipsticks that remained cracked open in the sink, still in their delightfully pink boxes.

Wirt didn't have an amazing sorting system for his makeup, because a) makeup was too expensive for its own good and b) the dollar store couldn't really help much in that department. As a result, his tabletop was a cacophony of half used sponges, smeared foundation and concealer, ink and hardened powder stains. He always promised himself that he would clean it but the longer he spent in the apartment the less he worried about who saw. After all, Sara was really the one who visited him and really knew about it.

He shouldn't really even be ashamed of it-college was a time to experiment, wasn't it? There were people on campus who did more daring things than lipstick and nail polish, and not its like the LGBT scene was really all that tame, they had more colorful things-he saw someone in a leather corset and a rainbow wig during Pride. But a part of him, a part that sounded like his Dad, always warned him that people wouldn't always see it that way. And could he really afford to have people think of him like that? 'That' being a concept that he couldn't take shape in his mind, it's meaning unclear. Wrongness, maybe.  Or more accurately, femininity. It's not like it was a bad thing, he told himself, they were just things. Things he wanted. But the wrongness he associated from the alienation-

It was too much.

He can't remember when he had last been paralyzed by fear, what specific thing put him off doing things like wearing lipstick and nail polish, but he was feeling it now, seeing Mabel stare into the washroom.

He broke out into a sweat again, feeling the cresting waves of anxiety roll through him.  _Just breathe!_ Wirt told himself, taking in tiny breaths that sounded panicky to his ears.

"Why is the mirror blacked out?"

Wirt's mind went blank. Throat, dry.

"Huh?" he thought out loud, before sense returned to him. Of course. Who _cares_ about makeup? Mabel knew of Sara's existence. It's not like it would be hard to have explained that away. And even if Mabel knew it was his, why did he assume that Dipper's sister of all people could be judgemental of his choices? She was wearing a glittery iguana sweater. Not really a cute one in Wirt's opinion, either. He probably looked crazy enough with the black paint coating the mirrors in the bathroom. 

"Well, we can add mirror shopping to the list of things we have to do today, I guess," Mabel said without worry, as if people blacking out their mirrors was a completely normal occurrence, "Wow! I've heard good things about those lipsticks online? Have you worn them yet?"

Acceptance. Just like that.

"Wirt?"

Within the span of an hour, just being in Mabel's presence was stirring up more emotions in him that he didn't think were possible to express in such a short time.  Embarrassment, fear, and elation. Tears burned in the backs of Wirt's eyes and he couldn't hold back the wounded sound he made as Mabel whipped around in surprise. 

Right away he was engulfed in the Pine's sister's arms and he shoved his burning face into her neck, taking in lungfuls of her comforting smell, of Vanilla and cinnamon and something that must have belonged to Dipper as well, because it allowed him to sink into her without thinking too hard about it. She looped her arms around his waist and he held onto her tightly, little sobs wrenching themselves out of his throat without his consent.

"Shhh," she whispered into his hair, and rubbed his back. He was bent at a weird angle, not noticing how big the height difference was between Mabel and him when she first walked in, larger than life, just like she had seemed in the hospital, even weighted down with sleep. 

Dipper could be like that too, when he smiled. Not that Wirt had the privilege of seeing that anymore, either. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, voice soft with concern. Wirt could only cry harder, unable to believe how nice Mabel was being to him. Wasn't she supposed to take her brother's side in supporting whatever disdain he had for Wirt? Why was she here, wanting to hang out with him, wordlessly accepting his wants, and comforting him, when even Wirt could see how crazy he looked. Blacked out mirrors. Spilled medication. Most people would have walked away and avoided his mess. But Mabel was helping him clean it up.

For what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, she slowly distangled herself from his arms and lightly shoved at his chest. "Sit down, we're going to talk. I'm going to get you something, okay?"

He could only nod woodenly, numb with anticipation, as Mabel was back with a steaming mug of comfort. He made a face at the taste, or the lack of it. "Hot water?"

She simply shrugged. "It's not about the tea, it's the illusion of calm, isn't it?"

Well. She wasn't wrong in the slightest, Wirt thought with a growing smile. "See? it's working already!"

The grin stretched his face further, unable to contain his mirth at the ridiculous twin's antics.

"After you're done that, get dressed. It really is a beautiful day outside and I think you'd love to see what the weather is like. Getting out of here might do you some good."

Wirt could only agree, staring at his drawn curtains. He had lost the sense of time, not daring to look at the world outside knowing it would continue to be bright and awe inspiring, something Wirt wasn't really feeling.

"And when we come back," Mabel called after his retreating back as he went to go start the shower, "I'm doing your nails!"

Wirt smiled into the stream, letting the warmth seep into his skin, that had nothing to do with the warm water beating at his back.

* * *

"My brother is an asshole." Mabel slurped loudly from the dreggs that remained from her smoothie, some weird Kale thing that wealthy white urbanites probably drank after some hot yoga classes. "You know that, right? You didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault."

Wirt just stirred his smoothie in silence, the conversation making his apetite drop.

"Wirt." He could hear the firmness in Mabel's tone, and knew if he was looking at her, that her expression would be intense with determination. 

"You don't know that, Mabel! You weren't there." Wirt said exasperatedly, when she kept staring him down. "It's kind of hard to not feel like it's my fault when he ran away because of me."

Mabel bit her lip in frustration, looking like she really wanted to say something but was holding herself back from letting it escape her. "I'm not going to make excuses for him, but maybe you shouldn't make up excuses for him without knowing why."

"He could have done it to spare my feelings. " Wirt said suddenly, sucking down on his straw with a sudden burst of anger. "It's better now than to have to explain that his feelings aren't reciprocated."

"Wirt, he tried to play vigilante and follow you home for a week. I hardly think he is going to be embarrassed by some ill-timed boners. And sexual response is a lot different than feelings."

"But they may as well be! I don't even know if Dipper likes..." Wirt wanted to say 'guys' but he knew it wasn't the real problem here. It was Wirt himself. Who wasn't much of a guy at all, but resembling one so closely that he didn't know where to put the distinction. 

"I can answer that for you. Dipper likes people. Not genders."

The tenseness in his shoulders abated at that, the relief a cool refreshing thing before in a split second he was back to worrying. "But it still doesn't matter if he doesn't like me than, does it."

Mabel slapped both of her hands to his cheeks, the contact a shock to his system. "Wirt! Assuming is only going to hurt you more. In the end, you have to ask. I don't know what was going on in his head at the time, but you don't either. You have to ask him."

Wirt rubbed at his reddened cheeks, a stinging warmth left behind from her hands. He felt more chastised than anything else at Mabel's slap. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?'

Mabel didn't answer, but her eyes looked like they were saying  _'Of course you are, stupid.'_

"If it makes you feel better, we can treat the rest of the day as a big breakup and stuff our faces with junk and have a sleepover."

"Wasn't that your original intention anyways?"

"Plans change, my friend. Plans change."

 


	6. I left my love in the river

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this document wouldn't paste earlier because I had a pine tree emoji I wanted to include. Woe is me I guess. Posting fanfiction instead of studying for finals :)
> 
> Also trigger warning for mentions of torture at the end of the work. It's nothing too graphic but readers beware!

"How exactly did you get into the apartment? I could have sworn my door was locked at least." Wirt asked, leaning his back against Sara's legs.

She joined them later in the day at Wirt's invitation, a little irked at his and Mabel's newfound friendship but was supportive none the less and excited to see that he was up and about.

Mabel was painting his toes with precise strokes, and the coats looked smooth and nice the way she did them. He had still been insecure about how long and spindly his hairy toes were and quickly ran to the bathroom to shave off the little hairs before Mabel could touch them. The burgundy looked nice against his skin, and he considered trying on the dark shades he had bought earlier that week.

"Oh, I broke in." Mabel said without missing a beat, clearly not fearing the outcome of what she had said.

Wirt jerked back, spluttering in disbelief. "What do you mean you broke in?!"

"I picked your lock," She said slowly, as if speaking to a smaller child,but it didn't stop her from holding his ankle still and clicking her tongue when she noticed a bit of paint stain his skin in Wirt's haste to get away from her.

Wirt looked to Sara for help but she simply raised her brows at him as if to silently convey, 'Hey she's your friend you would understand better than I do.'

"And Um. Why would you do that exactly?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't get up otherwise."

Wirt was taken back to Dipper's offhand remark about Mabel going to therapy away bound if it was related at all to the unexpected empathy from the Pine's twin.

"She's not wrong, Wirt."

"Hey! Aren't you supposed to take my side?"

"We can talk about sides after you charge your phone. Wirt your family must be worried sick. You might lose your job. As much as I do want to just be the good friend and support you through this, a possible rejection isn't the end of the world."

The mirth and good mood in the room took a downturn, guilt and awkwardness settling in as Wirt looked away. Wirt couldn't find it in him to be mad at Sara because she was right.

"Luckily for you, that was the first thing I did when I walked in here."

She passed over his phone, and the amount of notifications alone were staggering. Yikes, he winces to himself, seeing a lot of them from his mom.

"Also, I don't know if you did it intentionally or not but your phone was on airplane mode before I touched it. Because a lot of these timestamps are dating exactly two weeks ago."

Wirt froze up, when upon scrolling to the bottom he saw 4 missed calls from Dipper, and a flood of texts. It hit Wirt suddenly that in his bad mood after Dipper left he had disabled his network so he could be well and truly left alone. Sara dropped by whenever so he hadn't felt like he was missing out in the world but judging on the varying avenues of concern, ranging from his classmates to co-workers to Internet friends, he had worried everyone. And all over a simple crush.

Shame rendered Wirt useless and unable to react as he browsed through the text messages.

Dipper 8:16 (November 8, 2016)  
Hey Wirt can we talk at some point this week?  
  
Dipper 13:24 (November 11, 2016)  
If you don't want to, no pressure but please at least text me? Let me know you're alright?  
  
Dipper 2:03 (November 11, 2016)  
I'm sorry for making things weird. Maybe it was out of line offering you a massage. Normal friends don't do that, do they? I hope I'm not reading this wrong. We're friends, aren't we?  
  
Dipper  2:04 (November 11, 2016)  
Or did I ruin everything?  
  
Dipper  2:04 (November 11, 2016)  
I wouldn't even blame you, it's not like I'm the best at keeping friends.  
  
Dipper   2:06 (November 11, 2016)  
That sounds pathetic.  Look at me trying to apologize and I make it about me...well when you feel like talking to me let me know.  
  
Dipper  14:57 (November 18, 2016)  
It's kind of lonely going to not having any assistants in the studio.  
  
(Download Attachment)  
  
Dipper  14:58 (November 18, 2016)  
My new helper. He looks a little like you. Why a garden gnome you ask? No idea.  
  
Dipper  17:15 (November 20, 2016)  
Please talk to me  
  
Dipper  3:59 (November 20, 2016  
Ok I won't bother you anymore  
  
It felt like the world had narrowed down to his phone screen, the only thing he could process beyond Dipper's texts growing more frantic in their urgency, was the feel of it in his hand. Mabel and Sara were trading worrying glances over at each other, no doubt suspecting that Dipper was the cause of his turmoil.  
  
"You knew," Wirt whispered, feeling an ounce of confused betrayal.  
  
Mabel only continued to look more bewildered by his extreme reaction. "Knew what?"  
  
"That he wanted to talk to me."  
  
Mabel's lips thinned into an angry white line and she pinched the bridge of her nose as if the stress was getting to her. "Wirt. I told you to go ask him instead of assuming the worst of the situation. And now I'm assuming it's not going the way you thought."  
  
She was right. It didn't take anything more than common sense sense to have guessed that from the context.  
  
Still. Wirt could only sit there, left with the feeling that he had ruined absolutely everything and he could only let the world crumble around him at Dipper's passive acceptance of Wirt's dismissal. Like it was justified. Like it was acceptable.  
  
"What are you doing dummy? Go talk to him!"  
  
Wirt was taken back at Sara's rushed insistence to pull him up and drag towards the door.  
  
She shoved him out the doorway and locked the door shut behind him. "We're not letting you back until you've talked to Dipper!"  
  
"I have no shoes!"  
  
Sara's only response was to shuffle his oxfords through the outdated mail slot.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
So here he was. Standing outside the studio that Dipper used to camp out in, if memory serves him correct. On Wednesday nights like these they would sit side by side waiting for his files to render and make games out of what things they could do before the time was up. It was dumb and they knew that it was an hour, give or take, depending on how large the file was. Back then it didn't matter because it was an excuse to sit side by side in silence, knees pressed together even though the studio was empty and there were dozens of other places to sit. Dipper liked it because it was at the heart of the school but at this time of night nobody was really around. He liked the idea of being alone but being so close to everything else that it didn't feel that way. Wirt felt that way too, whenever he was in the radio station's studio recording booth, nerves riddled with worry about how he probably sounded to the general public, with nothing but the sonorous tone of his own voice a comfort.  
  
Wirt tried to muster up some confidence, and failed, peering into the studio and seeing a flash of Dipper's trademark baseball cap. So naturally, just as he pivoted away, thinking it wasn't so bad if he slept in the hallway that night, that Dipper opened the door with tired eyes, bags heavy with exhaustion.  
  
Dipper paused and squinted his eyes further, even though at that point they may as well be closed. It looked like he was attempting to process what he was seeing in front of him and it wasn't going through. "Wirt?"

He had enough momentum already, didn't he? He broke out into a run-

and nearly fell back at the way Dipper's hand had shot out and grabbed the collar of his sweater and yanked him backwards, falling into Dipper's warm chest, with the wind knocked out of him. "Oh no you don't. You don't get to ignore my texts and than come and-ignore me?"

Wirt should really be ashamed, but it's hard to focus on it when Dipper's voice is...right by his ear. And his chest feels more wiry than Wirt remembered and it was all very distracting ok?

Once again, because Wirt was a totally well spoken person and in control, of course his intelligent response was: "Meep!"

There was a dead silence as Wirt could feel Dipper mentally process what he had just heard. "Did you just squeak?"

If Wirt hadn't already been blushing before, he was now. "You just...grabbed me unexpectedly!" 

Wirt could feel the deep rumble of Dipper's chuckling against his back and he was going to  _melt._

 

 

"Glad to see you're ok. I'm still pissed at you but I was worried more than anything else."

And because Wirt couldn't be luckier, and Dipper couldn't stop being so perfect, he wrapped both arms around  Wirt's torso and buried his burning face in Wirt's neck. Wirt's brain short circuited at the feel of Dipper's soft curls tickling his nape and could only focus on the scent of Dipper's shampoo and how it was nice and minty and that if he could die right there, he would.

Tears burned at the backs of his eyes as he stood there, surrounded by Dipper's comforting weight and warm skin. To think, he could have missed all of this.

Because even though he was laying there in Dipper's arms, dressed, fed, and alive. He didn't think he was still ok. Maybe the idea of Dipper's abandonment may have triggered the weeks long episode he had been experiencing, but it wasn't the root cause. Wirt was getting sicker, and bruising, and he didn't have the energy to get out of bed. Even filled with love and relief, there was something weighing him down from saying what was really wrong. And it was only getting worse.

Which was also when he chose to black out.

 

* * *

 

He woke to the sounds of raised voices bickering at each other. 

"We need to do something, Mabel!"

"Dipper, we can't just tell him out of the blue. He isn't going to believe any of it!"

"Can the both of you keep your voices down over there? I don't think our friend here is going to like having this conversation being spoken without his input."

"That's why it's important we-"

"Abel Pines you will kindly shut the fuck up and lower your voice."

More grumbling and stiffled laughter.

Their voices trailed off further away, probably drifting into another room. Wirt came to awareness in levels. The feeling of the soft wool between his fingers and how it was draped over him. It was nice and toasty but starting to get a little uncomfortably warm so Wirt kicked it off. From the sounds of it he was probably over at Mabel's room based on how soft and warm the blanket was. Wirt could swear he heard Sara too so what was it they were arguing about?

Wirt's eyes were so heavy he could barely blink and when he shifted up, he felt a vice like grip tighten around his throat.

Wirt's eyes bulged open and he gasped, only to feel the weight of a hand slap around his mouth.

_"Listen kid, we're really going to have to talk."_

Wirt could barely believe his eyes at seeing the one-eyed creature in front of him, no mouth, and blindingly yellow.

_"This whole silent possession and killing you slowly kind of deal is starting to bore me so I'll just tell you now. See Pine Tree over there? You got him to blame for your suffering."_

Wirt's vision started to tunnel at the edges as the grip wound around his throat got tighter. 

_"And you're probably thinking; why you? Well, imagine my surprise when I found out you've already had experience with the Supernatural! And coincidentally, are close enough to the kid! You've been doing the job for me just good actually. See, I wanted you to get close to him. I thought all those bruises would tell you something, but gee, are you thick!"_

The pressure let up around his throat and Wirt's lungs burned with the force of his inhalation, only to be cut off again.

_"Keep doing what you're doing! And remember, if you tell anyone about our little deal, I'll kill you! Got it?"_

If this was another hallucination, it was a little too frightening for Wirt to bear. 

_"Oh silly me! How are you going to remember that this even happened? Well here-"_

A burning sensation dragged itself through the skin of his chest as the flesh tore and knit back together, the pain so intense Wirt almost fainted and screamed into the hand pressed to his mouth. 

_"That's my little gift to ya! Don't think you'll get out of our little deal so quick!"_

And with that, the demon, and that was the only word Wirt could use to describe it, disappeared.

His skin broke out into a cold sweat, as he dragged much needed air into his lungs, head spinning with these new revelations. 

Wirt cursed as he shifted feeling a pull on the skin of his chest and dragged the material of his sweater down, seeing the fabric already encrusted with blood.

There, scratched in what Wirt could only think was ink, was the shape of a pyramid with an eye. 

 


End file.
